


in the dark & quiet

by nyxienova



Category: Original Work
Genre: (they’re very pretty aliens), Denial, F/M, I promise this isn’t as dark as the tags make it seem, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Sexual Abuse, Light Angst, Neaswe sleeps very quietly I have decreed it because she is cute, Nightmares, Non-Human Character, PTSD flashback, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sort Of, Stream of Consciousness, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, bad dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:06:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxienova/pseuds/nyxienova
Summary: Vellan was in the business of being okay. After all, what type of prince consort would he be if he let his past seep through the cracks?— ☾ —Or, Vellan isn’t as good at suppressing his problems at night and deals with the aftermath.☾ rated T for inexplicit memories of s//xual trafficking
Relationships: Vellan/Neaswe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	in the dark & quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [South_Star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/South_Star/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Arc: Vellan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24873574) by [South_Star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/South_Star/pseuds/South_Star). 



> hi hi!!
> 
> this is for my v dear friend Star whom I thought might need a pick-me-up!! an exercise in emulating her effortless stream of consciousness with her favorite boy 😔💕💕
> 
> a bittersweet dream/flashback written from self experience because who doesn’t love projecting onto poor Vellan these days
> 
> enjoy~ ✨

Vellan was in the business of being okay. After all, what type of prince consort would he be if he let his past seep through the cracks?   
  
Yet sometimes, in the dark and quiet, his past did exactly that: worming its way into his conscious and wrapping around his limbs, holding tight and ripping his defense open, phantom hands of men and women alike running a salacious race on every inch of his skin—  
  
Claws dug into his shirt and Vellan woke with a start, breathing harshly, eyes blurred with tears or something else. His thoughts were running a hundred miles a minute and he could read none of them while he attempted to calm down. A couple long, deep breaths seemed to suffice for now.   
  
After sitting in the darkness for many moments, his mind cautiously wandered back to... it wasn’t a dream, or maybe it was and he didn’t remember.  
  
Some “clients” were gentler than others- with one, he wondered why they even engaged in this type of business, what with their considerate kindness in contrast to most’s utter hedonism- but that was an incredibly rare commodity.   
  
The average individual etched their sin into his skin with no remorse. And he clenched his eyes and ignored it, he always tried to ignore it, but this was deep, not a scar that could heal but a permanent engraving. Weeds that kept popping up until they turned to stone, which was even worse if he wanted to forget them.  
  
He was never given the mercy of forgetting—or maybe he was, to some degree. Amid his pain, he was left questioning if he should even feel it. Vellan let himself feel that it was unfair, likely to regret lamenting such a small thing in the morning.   
  
The soft bed was still foreign to his senses, even now, as he finished grounding himself. Neaswe lay silently next to him, face squished cutely against the pillow. Sometimes it unnerved him how quietly she slept.  
  
He wished he could rest so soundly, without a care in the universe. The nightmares had waves, with varying intensity, but never fully left.   
  
He gently smoothed his hair, one of the few comfort mechanisms he had, and wiped the tears away. Then his fingers ran down his shirt, still so determined to keep up his image.  
  
It did nothing to continue ruminating in the dark, so Vellan pulled the several-layered-blanket over himself and gently snuggled closer to Neaswe.  
  
As his consciousness faded and wandered, he realized one thing: With each flashback, the pain felt subtly weaker. Like hard rocks inside an hour glass turning to sand, ever so slowly, and falling to the bottom. A small difference, yes, but a difference nonetheless.   
  
Maybe healing wasn’t so far. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! 💞
> 
> if you leave kudos I will love you forever + if you comment?? I’m legally obligated to give you my life. thank you so much 
> 
> please go read the original epic Starstruck!! It will add (or shave off, if that’s what you’re going for) at least 10 years to your life!! all characters are hers and I love them


End file.
